


I Confess

by pepperlandgirl4



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 17:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8255023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperlandgirl4/pseuds/pepperlandgirl4
Summary: Strangely enough, it helped that Arthur knew every inch of these scars. In a way, it lightened the burden. They didn’t just belong to Merlin. They weren’t just his to carry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Allusions to rape and the consequences. I suggest you read **Do You Confess** first.

Merlin’s miracle recovery was one of the best kept secrets in the castle. Access to Arthur’s private quarters remain limited to Gaius, Morgana, and Gwen, and while Merlin wasn’t exactly a _prisoner_ , his ability to roam was highly curtailed. He never accompanied Arthur anywhere, not even when he was just drilling with his knights. A week after Arthur returned from his patrol, Gaius consented to let Merlin go on a walk with Gwen, but he wasn’t inclined to agree to more than that. The full extent of his injuries had not been publically known, but there was gossip, and most of it was close enough to the truth that they all agreed discretion was for the best. Even Merlin, though cabin fever was making him snippy and Arthur responded to his mood with _Since you’re so full of energy why don’t you polish my armor_ and _If you can’t sit still for five seconds, sweep the floor._ When Gaius finally declared that an appropriate amount of time had passed, it was all Merlin could do to stop himself from running to his little room he hadn’t seen in over a month. 

He slept in his own bed, which lacked the comfort of Arthur’s, and also lacked Arthur. He ate breakfast with Gaius, and they talked about the new elixirs and potions he was experimenting with. Gaius still looked at him strangely at times, but Merlin ignored it, too accustomed to it to let it ruin his morning. After breakfast, he grabbed his bag and the list Gaius had made of roots and petals he had grown short of and ducked out the door, nearly vibrating with excitement at the thought of being _outside_. 

As soon as Merlin stepped beyond of the castle walls, his spirits lifted. The air had never smelled so sweet, the sky had never seemed so big, the sun had never felt so warm. He walked through the east fields, running his fingers through the long wheat stalks, letting them tickle over the pads. His feet felt hot in his boots, and he paused long enough to kick them off, stuffing them in his bag and thrilling at the texture of soil and rocks and grass against his toes. He sank into the soft ground with each step, surprised by how wonderful it felt to not tread on cold stone. The wheat wasn’t quite up to eye level yet, but if he ducked a little, the golden stems would hide him. Not that he needed to duck out of anybody’s view. 

As soon as he cleared the fields, the ground changed beneath him. The soil was more firm, but the grass was softer. The forest beckoned to him, lovely and dark, offering relief from the sun that hung high overhead. He could travel along the edges if he wanted and circle castle from a distance, surveying it, learning how it looked from all different angles. Or he could venture deeper, avoiding the long branches that always seemed to be level with his face. The deeper he went, the further from people he would be. Considering the matter settled, Merlin moved towards the shadows. 

Despite his weeks of isolation—or maybe because of them—he didn’t quite feel ready to talk to anybody. Besides Arthur, Gwen was truly the only exception to that. She was easy to be with, soft around the edges, patient. He didn’t have to wonder what was going on in her mind, he didn’t have to question his new place with her, and when she looked at him, she wasn’t reliving the three days that still haunted Arthur which Merlin had essentially no memory of. Not that Arthur was constantly walking around with a pained expression. Arthur was just Arthur, normal and comfortable. Except when he wasn’t. Then there was something in the air between them that Merlin couldn’t quite name—though he did have a pretty good guess. And Merlin just didn’t feel like he was ready to deal with that. Though, in fairness to Arthur, he didn’t seem like he quite wanted to deal with it, either. 

Merlin quickly found a narrow, well-trodden path. He knew from his time with Arthur that it wasn’t a result of man, but rather beasts. Mostly deer. They used it in their constant search for food and water, running between forest and field in a straight, almost regimented line. It would probably lead to a pond or a lake. Merlin liked the sound of that, and he jogged ahead, mapping the forest ahead of him and the trees above him with eyes and ears. There weren’t any animals that he could sense but for a few birds calling to each other from the thick branches. 

The pond appeared suddenly, pushing right up to the trees, and Merlin nearly fell in. He stopped himself with one foot in the thick mud, water closing around his ankle, and stared. The water was crystal clear, the surface smooth except for the ever widening circle of ripples when a small fish leapt from the safety of its home to reach for a bug. The sun was high enough overhead that the huge trees surrounding the water didn’t block its light, and the light danced and sparkled over the crystal surface. On the other side, a little peninsula jutted into the water, carpeted in grass and tiny purple flowers. To his right was a deepening indentation, and Merlin realized it was a salt lick. That’s why the deer trail led directly to it. Did Arthur know of this place? He must have. He knew the woods surrounding Camelot as intimately as he knew his own body. 

Merlin picked his way around the water until he reached the narrow piece of earth. He expected the soil to be damp and spongy, but it was firm and the grass was dry beneath his toes. Smiling, he dropped the bag and pulled at his jacket. He undressed slowly, folding each article of clothing as he removed it. When he was fully undressed, he walked right up to the edge of the water and waved his hand, stilling the water completely, turning it into a mirror as smooth as any glass. 

_Still too skinny_ , Merlin thought wryly, taking in the jut of his hips and prominence of his collarbone. Arthur complained about it almost daily, in subtle ways. Offering Merlin more food, coaxing him into bringing extra pies for dessert, trying to convince him that second breakfast existed and the cooks probably wondered why he never went to the kitchen to collect it. Merlin took it all in good humor, but now he saw that Arthur might have been a little right to worry. Merlin had always been skinny, but he hadn’t always looked like _this_. Of course, he ate like he had a hole in his stomach (Merlin was actually quite fond of second breakfast now and the head cook let him take dried meat and fruit when he wanted to). 

His face was drawn, but he didn’t quite look hollow-cheeked. His hair was too long. Gaius trimmed it for him every few weeks, muttering about how the prince needed a manservant who wasn’t quite so slovenly. Merlin thought that was rich coming from Gaius, who looked like a wild man some days when he was too busy to run a comb through his hair, or when he’d spent the morning outside in the wind. The bruises around his throat that had caused Arthur so much distress were gone, as was the bruise on his face. 

But the marks left below the waist would never leave him, and Merlin understood that but he couldn’t quite accept it. It felt as though his skin belonged to somebody else. His memories were so much fresher than the scars, but they felt unreal. Like nothing more than a story he heard once. He ran his fingers over the raised flesh, more than a little fascinated by the new texture of his skin. He needed to become reacquainted with his own body, but this was the first time he’d touched his new skin, much less studied it. 

Merlin delicately traced his fingertips over the endless lines, mapping them, learning their shape and their depth and their texture. His stomach churned each time he touched a new scar, but Merlin ignored the low, sick feeling. They were ugly, horrible things, but they were his now. They belonged to him forever. But that didn’t mean they had to hurt him forever. That didn’t mean he would have to treat his own body with trepidation and fear because the mere sight of his legs made him ill and lightheaded. Merlin didn’t want to live like that. He _refused_ to live like that. 

Strangely enough, it helped that Arthur knew every inch of these scars. In a way, it lightened the burden. They didn’t just belong to Merlin. They weren’t just his burden to carry. Arthur didn’t have to say or do anything—and he rarely did anymore—but the knowledge of their shared secrets was comforting in its own way. There would be no look of surprise on Arthur’s face, no disgust. He would never judge Merlin and Merlin would never have to explain anything to him. He suspected Arthur thought any reminder of Arthur’s knowledge made him uncomfortable, but that was far from the truth. 

Merlin’s fingers drifted to his soft cock. He ran his thumb around the base, shuddering at each dimple in his flesh. They didn’t hurt. They didn’t feel like anything. They weren’t even deep. He’d asked Arthur if everything still worked, and Arthur assured him that everything _should_ still work, but the reality was that Merlin had no idea. Even sleeping in Arthur’s bed every night, his body fitting into Arthur’s slight curves and hard muscles, hadn’t prompted a response from his flesh. Was he physically unable to become aroused? Was he going to be impotent for the rest of his life? 

It wasn’t that he lacked the desire. He thought about kissing Arthur’s full lips and his jaw and his throat. He thought about the texture of Arthur’s hair, and the warmth of his breath. He thought about Arthur opening himself to Merlin, allowing himself to be vulnerable, welcoming Merlin’s inquisitive touches and explorative kisses. But his fantasies rarely went beyond chaste caresses, which definitely had not been the case before. Merlin had a very good imagination and he quite enjoyed daydreaming about Arthur when he was cleaning Arthur’s room and running Arthur’s errands (not that Arthur made him do any of those things anymore. Arthur barely treated him like a servant. Merlin didn’t know how that boded for him in the future, but he had too many other things on his mind to worry about it). 

Sex had suddenly become something he enjoyed in theory that he was unable to put into practice. And when it came right down to it, that’s what Merlin hated the most. He could live with the occasional nightmare. He could live with the shadows of memories lurking in the back of his mind. He could accept the scars. But he hated that Aredian could rip something so necessary, so precious, away from him. He hated that Arthur was so close to him now, so willing to give him everything, so willing to _be_ everything, but they couldn’t take that final step. As though his body was simply incapable of experiencing pleasure now. It wasn’t fair and it _infuriated_ him. But he didn’t know how to fix it, or even if it could be fixed. 

Merlin waved his hand over the water, breaking the enchantment, and stepped off the sloped bank. The pond was warm from the sun, but the closer to the middle he ventured, the cooler the water became. He made it nearly to the middle, and the level climbed and climbed, until it covered his shoulders. He dropped his head back and extended his arms, closing his eyes against the sun. He felt the magic from the earth pulling at his feet and hand, wrapping around his chest and settling in his bones. 

Magic pulsed through his veins, passing easily from the earth to his body and back again. The loneliness and frustration and fear fled his body, replaced with soft, warm light. The light grew brighter and brighter, flooding through his muscles and skin and hair. When he opened his eyes, he saw the golden reflection of his skin shimmering under the silvery-blue water. Sudden movement on the edge of his vision caught his attention, and he looked over in time to see a great stag step from the forest to take a drink. They noticed each other at the same time and neither one of them moved for several long moments. Finally, the stag dropped its muzzle into the clear water, and Merlin’s thoughts drifted to Arthur again. He missed him. 

Merlin pushed through the water and climbed onto the bank again. He flopped down in the grass, allowing the sun to dry his skin and warm him through. He didn’t touch his thighs again, but if he had, he might have noticed that the skin was just a little smoother, a little less ragged. 

#

Merlin didn’t return until after dusk, feeling loose and happy, his stomach growling in eager anticipation of his meal with Arthur. He felt rejuvenated, his energy fully replenished. It was all he could do to keep the skip from his step, but he did hum a few bars as he ducked into Gaius’ chambers. He just needed to deposit the things he had gathered and change his shirt, and then he would be on his way back to Arthur. 

“Where have you been?” Gaius demanded, in lieu of a proper greeting. 

“Out. With the list you gave me.” 

“You left hours ago.” 

“I’m sorry. Were you waiting on me?” 

“No, but Uther is.” 

Merlin blinked and took the bag from his shoulder. He hoped the sudden fear winding around his gut wasn’t warranted. “What does he want?” 

“I don’t know, but he sent a messenger to find you hours ago. Is this the first you heard of it?” 

“Yes. No messenger found me.” 

Gaius took the bag and gave Merlin a little shove. “I suggest you hurry. You kept him waiting long enough.” 

“You’re not coming with me?” 

“Uther didn’t ask to see me. He requested you.” 

“Yeah, but…” 

“Go.” 

Merlin allowed Gaius to push him out to the corridor, but his heart thrummed in his ear and the peaceful feeling he had earlier vanished. He couldn’t think of a single reason Uther would want to see him, unless he caught wind of Merlin’s sudden recovery. But how? Arthur would never put him in a dangerous position, and nobody else knew exactly what happened in that room. Maybe he had questions about Aredian? But surely if that were the case, he would just speak to Arthur. 

Merlin knew he should hurry, but he still found himself shuffling his feet as he walked in the direction of the court. He was so wrapped up in thoughts of Uther that it didn’t occur to him Arthur might be waiting for him as well. He took one step into the royal court and stopped short as both men looked up at the same time. Uther was listening to a nobleman’s grievance, but Arthur discreetly gestured Merlin forward. It had only been twenty-four hours since he last saw the prince. Barely any amount of time at all. But his heart still clenched and all five of his senses heightened, eager to capture any detail and horde it away for further study. It was more than a little pathetic, and it was probably written all over his face. His body and eyes betrayed him constantly. It was a wonder that Arthur even needed to be told what Merlin was thinking anymore, since a thought couldn’t pass through his mind without it being written all over his face. 

“Ah, Merlin. Come here.” He looked up to the guard and inclined his head slightly. The guard responded by herding everybody else out of the room and shutting the door, leaving Merlin alone with Uther and Arthur. 

Merlin obediently approached and bowed his head. “Your Majesty. I’m sorry I didn’t arrive sooner. I was out gathering supplies for Gaius.” 

“Yes, he told me. I merely wished to ask after your health.” 

Merlin looked up, his gaze jumping to Arthur. Did the King of Camelot really care about how he felt? 

“I am well, your Majesty. Gaius says that I’ll make a full recovery.” 

“Good. I wanted you to know, Merlin, that I am deeply sorry for the experience you had. If I had known the true horror of Aredian’s methods, I would have never allowed him access to my court.” 

Merlin’s mouth ran dry. He had never expected anything like this. Not in a million years. “Thank you, sire. I…” There was probably something he should say here. Something Uther expected to hear, but he had no idea what it was, and Arthur was no help. He stood with his arms folded behind Uther’s throne, his face set in the typical impassive mask he wore when he was holding court with the king. “Thank you.” 

“I will see to it that you will still collect wages for all the days you were unable to fulfill your duties as Arthur’s manservant.” 

Merlin didn’t care about the money, but the fact that Uther was even trying touched him to an absurd degree. He knew he should be angry. He knew he should be furious. But it had been his fault Aredian had even been summoned to Camelot, and it meant something that Uther was prepared to offer a gift along with his apology. 

“Thank you, sire. That is very kind of you.” 

“Is there anything you wish for, Merlin?” 

“Wish for, sire?” His gaze automatically went to Arthur, but he forced his attention back to the king in front of him. “I don’t understand.” 

“I simply want to know what you wish. Surely there’s something you want, Merlin.” 

Merlin wanted many things, but nothing Uther could give him. It wasn’t as though Uther could repeal the law against magic, or make a gift of his only son. And Merlin had very little need for material things, more than happy to survive off what he could find. He stared at Uther for too long, trying to make sense of the question and searching for an answer he simply didn’t have. Uther’s frown deepened, and Merlin could sense the impending storm on the horizon. 

Arthur could too, apparently, because he stepped forward. “Merlin’s still recovering, Father. And you know how he is, even at the best of times. Perhaps he could rest and return with an answer in the morning?” 

Uther inclined his head. “Very well. I expect you will have an answer for me in the morning.” 

“Yes, sire.” 

He gestured at the door, indicating Merlin could leave. Merlin didn’t want to go without Arthur, but Arthur made no move to step away from his spot near the throne, so he had no choice but to walk out of the room alone. He didn’t breathe again until the door closed behind him. 

#

Uther didn’t speak for a long moment after Merlin left the throne room, and Arthur didn’t even dare to breathe. Uther hadn’t known the full extent of Merlin’s injuries, but he’d had a pretty damned good idea. And Merlin looked remarkably healthy. Almost hardy, in a pale, wispy sort of way. As hardy as Merlin ever looked, anyway. Would Uther have reason to suspect sorcery? That hadn’t crossed Arthur’s mind once when he encouraged Merlin to do the spell, but even if Uther had been waiting outside the room, he would have done the same thing. 

“He seems to be in good spirits,” Uther finally said. 

“Yes. Though he’s still under Gaius’ treatment.”

“Has he indicated whether he wishes to stay?” Uther’s question was carefully pitched between concern and boredom. Like he had the energy to voice the question but no real desire to hear the response. 

“Yes. He’ll return to duty as soon as he’s fit.” 

“Very good.” 

Arthur wished he could go after Merlin. He wanted to ask him why his hair was wet and where he’d been all afternoon and if he remembered to eat lunch. He wanted to tell him about his day and maybe even every thought he’d entertained since Merlin left his chambers the day before. Arthur had never been big on talking, but except for Morgana, he’d never had anybody to speak to. Now that he had someone who patiently listened, who smiled and laughed, who teased him when he was being daft, Arthur realized he rather liked to talk. Of course, not as much as Merlin did. _He_ would always be the champion of running his mouth. 

But he couldn’t go after Merlin. Not until everybody with a valid request for an audience had been seen for the day. He kept his attention away from Uther, looking either at the commoner who requested Uther’s intervention, or at a spot on the far wall. Things between he and Uther had been strained, to say the least. Arthur didn’t know what Uther saw when he looked at his son, but Arthur knew what he saw when he looked to his father. A fool—and oh it pained him to even consider the word, but there it was, right in front him like a ripe apple waiting to be plucked. Uther was a fool, but not a naturally born one. No, something had made Uther this way. Something had fed those infernos inside of him, the ones that called for matching pyres in the middle of Camelot. Arthur couldn’t say why he felt that way, but he knew it was true as sure as he knew his own place in the world. 

He needed to know what had turned Uther so violently against magic. He needed to know why Camelot—and everybody in Camelot—was at the mercy of men like the witchfinder, who had so easily taken advantage of Uther’s fear for his own advantage. Merlin could have _died_ and for what? Because he had been playing with a column of smoke. It was a stupid thing to do (and Arthur would have said as much but mentioning Merlin’s part in instigating the whole tragedy seemed unbearably cruel) but it had been stupid, _harmless_ thing to do. Merlin hadn’t meant to scare anybody. He’d probably been smiling like a child playing with some new toy. Hardly worth summoning a monster like Aredian, yet Uther had acted without a second thought, as though a boy creating a horse from smoke was a genuine threat to the whole kingdom. 

Arthur wasn’t going to stand by and watch this any longer. He didn’t have a plan, yet. He didn’t even quite know where he was going to begin. Gaius would be the most logical choice, but Gaius was loyal to Uther first and always. He would no more reveal Uther’s secrets than Merlin would betray Arthur. But a plan, a strategy, could be formed later. For now it was enough to know that he wasn’t going to cast his gaze away from Uther’s madness any longer. When Merlin was strong enough, Arthur would broach the topic with him. 

It was a dangerous thought. A dangerous idea. If he began on this path of questioning his king—his _father_ \--could it really end anywhere good? Would he be prepared to see it through? 

Was he prepared to watch another person burn, another child beheaded? Was he prepared to gamble Merlin’s life every single day Uther continued his war against magic? 

Arthur didn’t have the answer to any of these questions. 

When Uther finally excused him, Arthur couldn’t make his escape fast enough. He was just happy Uther didn’t want to eat supper with him. But after he left the throne room, he was forced to an abrupt halt. Left or right? Would Merlin be hiding in Gaius’ room again? Or would he be waiting in Arthur’s chambers? He wished for the latter option, but suspected the former so strongly that he turned right, resolved to get at least a few minutes alone with Merlin. 

“I hoped you’d go that way,” Merlin said from behind him. 

Arthur spun around to see Merlin stepping from behind the corner. “Were you waiting this whole time?” 

“I was.” 

“You didn’t have to do that. I thought you’d go back to your room.” 

Merlin’s lips quirked. “Clearly.” 

“I was just about to eat.” 

Merlin half-turned towards the stairs. “I’ll go to the kitchen.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Arthur said quickly. 

“You know, I’m not actually sick anymore. I can fetch dinner.” 

“But I didn’t want you to fetch dinner. That’s not why I mentioned it.” 

“Why are you arguing with me? Don’t you want to eat?” 

Arthur blinked. Of course he _wanted_ to eat. What sort of foolish question was that? He just didn’t want Merlin to be a servant. Arthur almost staggered back as the truth of that hit him. He loved ordering Merlin around. He lived to order Merlin around. On days when he hated the world, ordering Merlin around was the only thing that made him happy. Because Merlin clearly resented the orders so much, but he always did what he was told, and he usually did it right or semi-competently. Arthur couldn’t really say why it wasn’t half so fun ordering around the other servants. And now here he was, trying to stop a perfectly healthy Merlin from doing a mundane, daily task that, after all, needed to be done. 

“No, of course not. I’ll expect it piping hot in no less than ten minutes,” Arthur said in his most imperial tone. 

“Yes, sire,” Merlin responded instantly, and Arthur might have protested the _sire_ bit if Merlin didn’t have a way of saying it with honest affection and exasperation. 

Arthur didn’t move again until Merlin scurried away, looking just about as pleased with the circumstances of his world as any person could reasonably expect to be. He hurried up to his room, frowning thoughtfully over the state of things, but feeling like he should be smiling. Which made perfect sense when Arthur stopped to think about it. Merlin turned everything else upside down, why not completely destroy his ability to process new information and respond with the appropriate emotion? 

Merlin made it up to his room in seven minutes, and he was carrying two plates. Arthur smiled when he saw that, but he didn’t comment on it, just patiently waited for Merlin to serve the food and pour the wine from the skin hanging around his neck. 

“Where did you go today?” 

Merlin smiled at the question like he’d been waiting _hours_ for Arthur to ask. “I went for a walk just to get some fresh air, and I found a deer trail to the north of the castle. So I followed it into the forest to see where it would lead, and I found that beautiful pond.” 

Arthur had a feeling Merlin expected him to know what he was talking about. “Pond?” 

“Yes. The one with the salt lick?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Merlin looked at him like he was trying to decide if Arthur was having him on or if he was just spectacularly dense. Arthur recognized the look. He’d sent a similar one to Merlin enough times. “There is a pond just to the north of the castle. Not a big one. But it’s got the clearest water and I spent the whole afternoon there.” 

“Merlin, I know the surrounding forests better than anybody and there’s no pond just to the north of the castle. Maybe a few bogs.” Arthur narrowed his eyes and sniffed. “You weren’t lazing about in a bog all day, were you?” 

“Do I _smell_ like I’ve been in a bog all day?” 

“How am I supposed to know? You always smell like bog water.” 

Merlin growled with frustration. “I’ll show you.” 

“I’m not going to abandon my dinner so I can watch you get lost in the forest looking for a pond that doesn’t exist,” Arthur said irritably. Then he felt sorry for being irritable at all with Merlin. Then he felt relieved because the irritability almost felt like everything was normal. 

“No, I’ll show you here.” 

Before Arthur could protest, Merlin was standing, his arm extended, his eyes shot with gold. Arthur darted a worried glance towards the door which wasn’t locked at all and what did he have to do to make Merlin have an ounce of self-preservation? But Arthur’s fear was quickly forgotten as Merlin summoned an image from thin air. A pond surrounded by tall trees with crystal blue water and a tiny stream merrily bubbling over flat rocks. It wasn’t still like a painting. Arthur could see where the light bent against the water and the steady ripples against the bank. He was quite certain that if he reached out, his fingers would sink into the cool water. 

“Merlin.” He meant the word to reflect the deep awe he felt at the sight of Merlin’s powers, but that must not have been what Merlin heard. He dropped his hand immediately, his face pulling into a grimace. 

“Sorry. I just wanted you to see.”

“No,” Arthur said quickly. “No, it’s fine. That was…amazing.” 

Merlin’s eyes widened, and then he blushed, and then he just looked infinitely pleased. Like he’d been waiting his whole life to hear those words. “Don’t you recognize it, though?” 

“Recognize it?” 

“The pond,” Merlin prompted. 

“Oh. No. I’ve never seen it before.” 

Merlin sat down, but didn’t even glance at his food. Arthur stopped himself from clearing his throat and looking pointedly at the plate. “Then it’s probably not important to anybody, right? I mean, I know nobody has a claim on it, since I was in the king’s forest.” 

“No, I don’t suppose anybody does have a claim to it. It’s probably just what’s left of the spring thaw anyway.” Arthur didn’t quite believe that. Not if Merlin’s replication of the spot had been accurate. 

“Then that’s what I want.” 

“What?” 

“The king said I could make any request. That’s my request. That’s what I want.” 

Arthur dropped his fork. “You cannot tell the king of Camelot, who has graciously offered you anything you wish, that you would like a _pond_.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s ridiculous!” 

“It’s not ridiculous.” 

“It is ridiculous. What sort of person asks for a pond?” 

“How is it any different from asking for land?” 

“It’s completely different. For one thing, you get to be a nobleman if you’re gifted with land. What do you get for having a pond?” 

“It makes me happy,” Merlin said softly. 

Arthur deflated, and he couldn’t remember one good reason Merlin shouldn’t have the pond if he wanted the pond. “I still think that you should take advantage of this opportunity to request something…loftier.” 

“Uther doesn’t have anything else I want.” 

“Money, jewels, power, prestige,” Arthur began half-heartedly, knowing that none of the incentives that motivated other men would work on Merlin. He really did only want to serve Arthur (which, okay, Arthur could admit that was probably why he got such a kick out of bossing Merlin around but he wasn’t proud of it and he really was going to make an effort to curb that habit). “Out of all Camelot could offer, you only want a pond.” 

“That’s what I said.” 

“There are people who would call you a fool.” 

“You call me a fool.” 

“I meant people besides me.” 

Merlin shrugged happily and reached for a chunk of meat. At the sight of him gnawing the roasted beast, Arthur picked up his fork and happily dug into his food. He’d grown accustomed to eating with Merlin, half-tolerating half-encouraging the other man stealing food from his plate. A fact he became aware of that morning when he ate by himself for the first time in weeks and hated every second of it. Things were boring when Merlin wasn’t around. Even eating, which, it had to be said, was Arthur’s favorite pastime that didn’t include bossing around Merlin or killing something (it didn’t hurt that it was often the result of one or both of those activities). 

“Do you think you’ll need me tomorrow?” Merlin asked, something careful in his words. 

“That depends. Do you want to come back to work?” 

“Yes.” 

Arthur cocked his eyebrow. “Even though I’m willing to give you another week off?” 

“If you give me another week off, I might go insane.” 

“Really? I thought you would be happy to lay about all day and go for swims.” 

“I don’t need to do that every day.” 

“In that case, yes. Which do you want to do first? Walk my dogs or muck my horses?” 

“Walk your dogs,” Merlin answered promptly. “I feel like I need to move. Like I need to get used to everything again.” 

Which was good and right. Everything should get back to normal. Except nothing felt normal at all. Even if they returned to their normal routine, things wouldn’t be quite right. Arthur wasn’t sure why. Was it because nothing was normal between them? He didn’t quite know what to _do_ with Merlin anymore. Letting him work was the best option, even if part of him still balked at the idea. But it felt like they were meant to be doing something more now. Like Arthur had something more he was supposed to give. 

“Can I see the pond?” Arthur asked. 

Merlin had already looked content, but now his smile was bright enough to glow. “I didn’t think you would want to. You can’t kill anything there you know.” 

“I can’t?” Arthur asked slowly, more surprised to hear the words than annoyed by them. The last he checked, he could kill any animal he wanted anywhere in Camelot. Including unicorns, technically. 

Merlin realized the same thing and something shifted in his eyes. He looked more apologetic than happy now. “I…I’m sorry. That’s not what I mean. Of course you _can_. It’s just a sacred place. I…I could feel it.” 

“A sacred place for magic?” Arthur asked softly. 

Merlin looked even more stricken at that. “Yes.” 

“I suggest you not mention that when you petition my father,” Arthur said dryly. 

Merlin’s smile returned immediately. “I’m not _that_ foolish, sire.” 

“Then we shall go to the _sacred pond_ first thing after breakfast.” 

“Arthur?” Merlin asked a few moments later, his mouth full of food. 

“What?” 

“Why is Uther making a gift to me at all?” 

Arthur looked up. “What do you mean?” 

“What do you mean what do I mean? It’s a pretty self-explanatory question, I think.” 

“He’s trying to make amends for the wrong committed against you.” 

Merlin looked down, studying the spot where his fork touched his plate. Arthur watched him for a long minute, and then focused on his own food again. The silence stretching between them almost felt like a chastisement. _How could you think any gift would make up for this? How could you think anything Uther did would restore what’s been lost?_

“I shouldn’t accept it,” Merlin finally said. 

“What?” 

“I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t accept it. It’s not really Uther’s fault, is it? It’s my fault.” He muttered the last three words. 

Arthur took a deep breath. “It’s not your fault.” 

“I used magic. I summoned that horse where there were witnesses. If I hadn’t been so…so _stupid_ …” Arthur was genuinely surprised to hear the anger and disgust in Merlin’s voice as he spat the word. “Then Uther would have never called him. So it just seems wrong to accept an effort at amends.” 

“Merlin. Merlin, look at me.” Merlin did look up and when was Arthur going to learn not to do that? It always seemed like a good idea to demand Merlin’s attention until Merlin actually turned the full force of his gaze on Arthur. “It is _not_ your fault. Uther should have never summoned Aredian and he certainly should have never allowed him to move so freely in the castle.” 

Merlin gaped at him. “Arthur, don’t say things like that.” 

“Why not?” Arthur returned steadily. “It’s the truth.” 

“But it’s…” 

“It’s the truth. And Uther knows it. Besides, you can’t decline to accept the gift. How on earth would you explain that?” 

“I’d just tell him I don’t want anything.” 

“But you do want something. You want that pond and so you’ll have it.” 

Merlin’s smile was almost sweet. “Thank you.” Like it had always been Arthur’s idea. Like he was the one who was making the gift. Like Merlin hadn’t told him of the pond himself. A typical reaction from Merlin. Arthur was never going to be used to that , but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it a little bit.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur took a deep breath of the sweet air and smiled, happily walking over the game trail while Merlin crashed and shambled behind him. If they had been on a hunting trip, Arthur would have already snapped at him five times and shouted once, but they were just going to Merlin’s pond, and Merlin could make as much noise as pleased him. He carried a basket of food with plates—a job that would have normally fallen to another servant, but Merlin had been very clear about the fact that nobody else was invited. Ever. This was apparently his special pond of spring thaw, and he had every intention of keeping it that way. 

“Are we almost there, Merlin? We’ve been walking all morning.” 

“Oh, bugger this.” 

Arthur turned around to see the basket levitating a few feet in front of Merlin. He was smiling widely as he watched it, apparently moving it around with a simple gesture of his chin. Arthur stared at the display for several beats then marched over and plucked the basket from the air, unable to check his impulse to punch Merlin’s shoulder. 

“What is wrong with you?” 

“What? There’s nobody around.” 

“Just like there was nobody around last time?” 

Merlin’s eyes widened and Arthur felt a little mean for it, but damnit, he was _right_. Merlin had to be smarter with his magic. He couldn’t take these stupid little risks all the time, whether it was out of laziness or convenience or the urge to show off. Arthur took the basket by the handle and pulled it to his side. It became ten times heavier as the enchantment left it, and Arthur nearly dropped it again. 

“Sorry,” Merlin muttered. 

“Don’t apologize. Just don’t do it again.” 

“It’s heavy.” 

“Yes, I can see that. What did you pack in here anyway?” 

“Just food. Don’t tell me you’re going to carry it, highness.” 

“I’m going to have to if I don’t want to risk you getting yourself killed. How far are we anyway?” 

“Not far now. Come on, follow me.” 

Arthur allowed Merlin to take the lead, and he walked into the trees with a real sense of purpose. Arthur couldn’t stop the smile playing on his lips, and it was silly to be happy over a simple thing like walking normally, but he was. Relief and happiness walked hand-in-hand when it came to Merlin. He followed the trail on quick, light feet, and Arthur realized he was the one holding Merlin up. If he wasn’t leading his prince, he’d already be running ahead, like some sort of feral brownie. It was a little too easy to imagine Merlin living wild in the woods, his hair growing long and tangled, his limbs turning brown beneath the sun. Arthur swallowed hard at the vision, unable to say why it discomfited him so much. It wasn’t as though Merlin was going to leave him, move out of the castle, and take up permanent residence at his pond. 

Though he’d have every reason to do just that. Why wouldn’t he want to escape the claustrophobic walls, the draconian laws, and the million little things that imposed on him, creating boundaries he never wanted? It actually made good sense for Merlin to leave, but he never would. Because of his loyalty to Arthur. Because of his love. A love Arthur didn’t even feel worthy of most of the time (all of the time). 

Merlin stopped suddenly, the pond’s edge right at his toes. Arthur halted as well, watching as Merlin began to strip. He yanked his shirt over his head without a word, tossing it to a nearby branch. Arthur slowly set the basket down without taking his gaze from Merlin’s narrow back. There were freckles and the occasional hair, and his spine was overly-knobby. Arthur couldn’t quite see his ribs pushing against his skin, and he liked to think that had something to do with his campaign of food. 

The pants went next. Merlin stepped out of them without a hint of shyness. Modesty was no longer welcome in Arthur and Merlin’s relationship. They often slept together naked, and Arthur had been known to share his bath with Merlin, not to mention the fact that sometimes it was just too hot to bother with clothes when they were being lazy in Arthur’s chambers. The only problem was that it didn’t matter how often Arthur saw Merlin’s nude body, it still had the same effect on him. His stomach started to flutter, and his senses went on high alert, and warmth flooded the general area of his groin. He couldn’t stop his cock from stiffening, or his mouth from watering, or the thoughts of being able to _touch_ Merlin like he was something precious. Merlin returned the sentiment, but never made it clear he’d welcome a physical display. 

Arthur reminded himself that patience was its own reward as Merlin wiggled his hips and kicked his pants to the side. Scarf and boots followed, and his pale body soundlessly cut through the still pond, giving Arthur no choice but to follow him. 

“Do you believe me now?” Merlin shouted as he surfaced. He was smiling, and water splashed around him like a million perfect crystals. “Or do you still think it’s just a bog?” 

“I wouldn’t have been surprised by a bog.” 

“Well?” 

“Well what?” 

Merlin disappeared again and when his head pushed above the surface, he was several feet away. Just how deep was this pond? And was it getting wider? Arthur knew that was impossible, but he knew lots of things were impossible. They were all still real. 

“Are you going to join me?” 

Arthur didn’t need to be asked twice. He wasn’t quite as graceful or swift as Merlin when it came to undressing himself, but he still got himself naked in what must have been record time. The water temporarily stilled. Arthur looked up in time to see Merlin staring back at him, frozen and even more sprite-like with his wet hair sticking up in sharp spikes. Arthur smiled and took a step forward, surprised that Merlin’s attention never wavered. Soon only a few feet separated them and the water came up to his hips. Arthur did his best to ignore his erection and hoped Merlin would do the same. 

“Do you feel it?” Merlin asked, his smile spilling into his voice. 

“What?” 

“Everything? Do you feel the magic here?” 

Arthur shook his head, feeling like he was some sort of clod. Like he was letting Merlin down with his answer. He felt Merlin, of course. He felt the other man’s proximity and imagined his breath and his body heat. He always felt it when Merlin was in the room, and that might have been a form of magic. This was just nicely cool water in the climbing morning heat. 

Merlin drifted in the water to stand before him. Arthur tried to look him in the eye, but every time their gazes met, he found he couldn’t sustain the contact. Instead, he studied the drops of water that rolled down Merlin’s cheeks and clung to his lips. His eyes seemed even bluer against the sky and water, shining at Arthur like twin globes of light. God, he wanted to _touch_. He wanted to trace the places that had once been bruised and kiss the tender flesh. When it came to Merlin, he was nothing except soft intentions and gentle longings. 

“Arthur?” 

“I…I’ll watch from the bank.” 

Merlin took Arthur’s hand before he turned away. “You don’t have to go.” 

“I think I should.” 

Merlin pulled Arthur towards him, and their hips touched. The rush of heat was a shock to Arthur’s system, and he thought the water and air must be warming around them, too. “I want you to swim with me.” 

“Merlin…listen to me.” 

Merlin touched Arthur’s shoulder with his other hand, smoothing his palm over Arthur’s shoulder and down his arm. Arthur caught his breath, desire and hope tangling in his stomach until he felt sick with it. Merlin repeated the gesture, moving backwards until his fingers reached Arthur’s neck. 

“I brought you here because I wanted to swim with you.” 

“Swimming isn’t the problem,” Arthur said tightly. 

“There isn’t a problem here, Arthur. I promise you.” 

Arthur turned his hand, sliding his fingers free of Merlin’s and taking his wrist. He held the other man so gently that Merlin could have freed himself easily, but he didn’t move. He blinked up at Arthur with his impossible eyes, guileless and vulnerable. “Merlin, you know how I feel about you.”

“I do.” 

“Then you know why I can’t stay out here with you. Like this. Right now.” 

“Arthur…I know. But I…I want…” He finally faltered and looked away, his eyes casting to the side and his head turning just enough that it was clear he didn’t want Arthur looking at him. Arthur closed his eyes, a vision of Merlin broken, bleeding, _dying_ flashing at the front of his mind. Those memories were never going to be far. If he lived for another hundred years, he would be in danger of those dark flashbacks. Arthur had promised himself that he would never hurt Merlin in any way, thinking only of keeping the other man safe from Arthur’s desires. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might be hurting Merlin in some other way. 

Arthur caught Merlin’s chin and gently prompted him to look up again. The air must have been vibrating around them, but the water was as still as glass. Arthur imagined scooping his palm through it and pulling up nothing except long, silvery threads that he could drape over Merlin’s shoulders and hair. Merlin actually could do that if he wanted to. Not that he would ever have reason for it, but the reminder of Merlin’s strange, beautiful power made his already tight chest constrict further. 

When it came down to it, Arthur was a man of action, not words. He didn’t ask Merlin what he wanted or if it was time to consider more between them. Instead, he lowered his head and carefully touched Merlin’s lips with his own, catching his bottom lip and teasing it with quick kisses and a gentle nibble. When he lifted his head, Merlin stared back with wide eyes and his cheeks were slashed with red. He took a half-step closer and the water immediately surged forward like a dozen hands reached for Arthur all at once. But the only hand that mattered was the one settling on the back of his neck. Merlin delicately urged him closer, tilting his head in preparation for another kiss. 

The second kiss was closed-mouth and virginal, as though there had never been any intimacy between them at all. It was a simple test of boundaries, an exploration of the lines that marked a clear difference between their bodies. Arthur wanted to taste more of Merlin, but his tongue did nothing more than trace the seam of Merlin’s mouth before he caught his lower lip again. Their naked bodies were pressed hip to shoulder, their legs fitted together, but they kissed as though they were both fully dressed, and Arthur realized there was a kind of pleasure to that. A certainty that didn’t require gasping and fondling and pushing a little too hard for a little too much. Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he’d been more pleased by anything. 

The third kiss was a little more bold. Merlin parted his lips slightly, his breath coming in faster and faster gasps. Arthur felt the jerk of his shoulders and the way his chest hitched. Arthur’s cock was throbbing now, fully erect despite the cold water swirling around him. He moaned and pulled Merlin a little closer, holding him a little tighter and shuddering as Merlin’s stomach slid across the underside of Arthur’s cock, just below the slit. It was that unexpected singe of pleasure that drew Arthur’s attention away from Merlin’s enthralling mouth and brought him to the realization that there was a very important difference between them. 

“You’re not…hard,” Arthur said, lifting his head. 

Merlin’s face twisted. “I know.” 

“Do you not want…?” 

“No, no. I do want. I want a _lot_ , Arthur. You’ve got to believe that. But I just…I’m not…” 

“Can you?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Arthur studied him, troubled. He didn’t doubt Merlin was telling him the truth. He sounded too miserable and frustrated for it to be some sort of lie. “Should we stop?” 

“No. No, I don’t want to stop.” 

“But it’s not really…I mean, if you can’t then it’s not really fair, is it?” 

“There’s still plenty of things I can do,” Merlin said gently. “Plenty of things I _want_ to do.” 

Arthur didn’t know if he was comfortable with the thought of Merlin doing all the work and Arthur reaping the rewards. Of course, he recognized the irony of this and knew that if Merlin realized what he was thinking, there would be no end to the teasing. 

“I really didn’t think you would argue with me,” Merlin said dryly. 

“I’m not. I just really want…” Oh, he had lists and lists of things he wanted that he probably couldn’t have. Even if he was the crown prince of Camelot with a powerful sorcerer at his side, prepared to do what he could to keep Arthur safe and happy. 

“I just really want you to kiss me again,” Merlin murmured. Then there was Merlin’s mouth and proper kissing, with tongues moving together and soft, encouraging groans. Arthur’s fingers moved through the water and he closed his hand around Merlin’s soft cock. He felt Merlin tense, but he didn’t realize there was a problem until he squeezed the flesh and Merlin jerked away from his mouth. 

“What?” Arthur gasped. “Did I hurt you?” 

“No.” 

“Do you not want me to touch you?” 

“I don’t know. It just…startled me.” 

“I really want to touch you, Merlin. I know you don’t want me to. I understand. But I really…if I do touch you, it’s just because I’ve wanted to for a long time.” 

“I want that,” Merlin whispered. “I do. But…” 

“I’ll be careful,” Arthur promised. 

“Oh, Arthur. I know.” 

Arthur had more to add, but Merlin pressed himself to Arthur and they were kissing again. Arthur closed his eyes, concentrating on the rough texture of his tongue and the silky curve of his cheeks. No matter how much he tasted, he wanted more, like he was drinking from an endless goblet of spiced wine. He didn’t try to touch Merlin’s cock again, but his fingers were still busy, still carefully testing the texture of Merlin’s skin, above and below the water. Somehow, it didn’t make a difference. Merlin felt the same with or without the veil of water. Like it was nothing more than air surrounding him. 

They moved, and Arthur didn’t understand how at first. Not until he could no longer touch bottom, and he realized Merlin had pulled him right into the middle. He lifted his head long enough to get his bearings. The pond was much too big—it was more like a lake now. He could still see the distant walls of Camelot, though the castle looked like it must have been a half day’s journey, and Arthur knew they hadn’t journeyed that deeply into the forest. 

“Just float,” Merlin breathed. “Relax. The water will hold you.” 

Arthur took a deep breath, concentrating on releasing the tension in his limbs. Merlin smiled the moment Arthur accepted he wasn’t going to sink beneath the surface, though he watched Arthur was a very careful eye. When he seemed pleased with what he saw, he looped his arms around Arthur’s neck, his legs around Arthur’s waist, and claimed his mouth again. 

They floated together in a slow circle, kissing each other hungrily and lazily and sloppily, buoyed by the water. Once again, Arthur felt like it was a dozen hands, though now instead of surging for him, they held him up. Merlin’s fingers traced over his skin, dragging lines of water across the back of his neck and over his shoulders. At one point, Arthur cracked an eye open and saw Merlin’s other hand was in the water—glowing gold. That was the moment he became aware of the tiny burrs of pleasure working down his back, like they were crawling beneath his skin. 

Each kiss was amazing on its own. Each kiss was honestly more than Arthur could have truly expected, and he was greedy with each of them, sighing and drowning in them. He could have been content with that alone, and he couldn’t stifle his surprise when Merlin fisted his erection. 

“Merlin…” 

“Can I use magic on you?” 

Arthur couldn’t have said anything except _yes_ to that. Because he trusted Merlin, and because he truly did want Merlin to have whatever he wanted, whatever would make him happy. “What are you going to do?” 

“I want to know what you’re feeling.” 

“You can do that?” 

Merlin nodded. “I think so. A little bit.” 

He closed his eyes and his fingers tightened on Arthur’s shaft. He murmured low words in a strange tongue, and Arthur felt a distant thrill of fear at the strangeness. Something sizzled over his skin, and he was sure he could feel the magic unfolding in his veins, like tiny green tendrils unrolling in spring. He concentrated on Merlin’s hand and of the sensation of being weightless. If he tensed, he started to sink, so he was forced to be boneless and calm in the water. When he closed his eyes, he saw gold and blue swirling together, and when he blinked them open, there was Merlin, grinning at him shyly and studying his face as his hand moved faster beneath the water. 

Arthur didn’t want this from Merlin. Not _just_ this. He wanted to be closer, and he wanted to share more. He wanted to give more of himself to Merlin so that it really _counted_. But the pleasure was still undeniable, washing through him with higher and higher waves until he surrendered himself to it completely. He clung to Merlin, his legs kicking fruitlessly against the water as the hot bliss finally carried him away from his restless thoughts. 

#

Merlin stared as Arthur came undone in his arms. He hadn’t expected it. He’d never even imagined anything like the sight in front of him, and the weight against his arms, and the pleasure flowing freely into the reservoir of Merlin’s body. Arthur’s eyes had rolled back, and his pink lips were parted, his cheeks flushed. Merlin could see the bliss and satisfaction on his features, but there was more to it than that. There was submission, too, as though Arthur had no problem ceding his control to Merlin. As though that cessation of power was the most natural thing in the world. 

Merlin’s cock jerked. He tightened his grip and pulled on Arthur’s length, and Arthur slumped, whimpering softly at the extra pressure. He had felt Arthur’s warm seed diffusing into the water, but his flesh was still hard, as though he hadn’t been touched yet in days. Merlin could feel the sour-sweet pleasure winding around his chest and throat, and knew it wasn’t his. It belonged to Arthur, and instead of fading after his orgasm, it was only growing stronger. The spell he’d used didn’t just work to share pleasure, though. He got a sense of all of Arthur’s conflicting emotions and thoughts, though they were mostly vague impressions—he didn’t want to actually violate Arthur’s privacy. But it was impossible to ignore the fact that it was for him. It was all for _him_. 

Merlin was half-erect now and terrified to acknowledge it or think about it directly. He didn’t want to do anything to make the flesh wilt away again. The currents beneath the surface brought them together, their hips rocking with the gentle sway of the water, and it was so easy to think of other ways they could be rocking together. He’d never once thought Arthur would allow Merlin to take him, but he’d felt that sweet, golden moment of submission. The moment where Arthur gave himself to the pleasure and, by extension, Merlin. If he could do it once, couldn’t he do it again? Wouldn’t it be worth asking for it? 

His body certainly thought so. 

Arthur didn’t miss the gradually growing erection, and his smile was crooked and pleased against Merlin’s mouth. “It worked.” 

“Something certainly did.” 

Arthur fisted him, stroking him in a slow, maddening, perfect way. Merlin dropped his head and didn’t think of anything else for a very long time. Arthur was gentle, and the pressure of his hand was light, but the texture was perfect and it was _Arthur_. When he opened his eyes to see Arthur staring at him, his heart twisted with sharp love. Arthur still hadn’t told Merlin that he loved him, though Merlin never doubted Arthur’s emotions or his devotion. The words were difficult to say. A concept Merlin could understand even if he didn’t quite sympathize with it. He no longer worried about if or when he might hear the words, and times like these reminded him he’d made the right choice. What did he need to hear when he could see it in Arthur’s eyes or feel it in every touch? 

Arthur’s mouth went to Merlin’s throat, and he licked at the droplets of water he found there, moaning with each rasp of his rough tongue. Merlin shuddered, imagining those same slow strokes further down his body.   
“Merlin…let me take you out of the water.” 

Merlin dropped his head back, his scalp tingling as the cool liquid met his sun-soaked hair. If he gave his consent, Arthur would carry him to the bank. He would lower Merlin to the grass, and stretch himself over Merlin’s frame and…once again, Merlin’s imagination failed him. But this time he understood why. He didn’t want Arthur to fuck him—he was pretty sure he would never want that again from anybody—and he couldn’t quite imagine the prince spreading his legs for Merlin. 

He nodded, letting the lake shrink back down to pond size, surprised by how easily the area responded to his magic. As though it had always only been an outlet of himself, an extension of his magic, rather than a physical object in the world. 

“That’s so…weird.” 

“Does it bother you?” Merlin asked as Arthur kicked until he finally found the soft, muddy floor. 

“No. I do trust you, Merlin.” 

Merlin caught his breath. “Completely?” 

“Yes.” 

“Can I…” 

“What, Merlin? Tell me, please.” 

They were still again, just a few feet from the bank, their bodies mostly exposed to the sun and air. Merlin’s cock was still hard against Arthur’s stomach, and Arthur’s arms were strong, unbendable, locked around Merlin’s trunk. Merlin opened his mouth, but there was no delicate way to (illegally) proposition the crown prince. But raw desire spilled into his blood, and he saw the same overwhelming need reflected in Arthur’s eyes. They were so close, but there was still so much distance between them and Merlin _wanted_. 

He kissed along the hard line of Arthur’s jaw, gathering his courage with each tiny caress. The drops of moisture tasted a little sweet, like the watered wine Merlin drank at banquets. He could spend a whole afternoon just kissing Arthur’s jaw. 

“I…I want to be inside of you,” Merlin said in a rush, glad Arthur couldn’t see the way his cheeks flamed red at the confession. 

“Why didn’t you ask me sooner?” 

“What do you mean? Because you’re the prince and I’m your servant.” 

“No, you’re my…” 

Merlin lifted his head. “Your what?” 

Arthur’s eyes were dark and maybe a little confused. Merlin’s mouth went dry while he waited for the answer, but it never came. Instead, Arthur lifted Merlin out of the water, pulling Merlin’s long legs around him again. He carried Merlin to the bank opposite of where they jumped in, the water cascading from them as he stepped onto solid ground. 

He lowered himself to his knees without loosening his grip, Merlin’s mouth pressed against his neck. He unlocked his knees and carefully settled on the ground, taking a shaky breath as Arthur’s hands traveled over his shoulders and down his back. Merlin remained still until Arthur touched one of the scars on his thighs with the pad of his thumb. He jumped, startling Arthur into releasing him. 

“Merlin?” 

The slightly reproachful tone made Merlin feel silly. Arthur had nursed him back to health, had bathed the sweat from his feverish skin. He’d held him, changed his clothes, cried and prayed over him. Merlin swallowed and laid back, pulling Arthur over him. He blocked the harsh light from the sun, and his face was shadowed. Merlin couldn’t see his eyes, but he felt the warm affection in Arthur’s kiss, and right on the heels of that was heady desire. Arthur kissed him voraciously until Merlin responded with equal enthusiasm and the moment of surprise and confusion was forgotten. 

They arranged themselves without breaking the contact, Arthur rolling on his back with Merlin cradled between his legs. Merlin’s cock dragged over Arthur’s, fresh strings of pre-come catching his skin and stretching between them in fine lines. Merlin swelled with a rush of emotions he couldn’t even begin to sort out. It felt like they had been marching resolutely towards this moment, this situation, since the moment Arthur had begged Merlin to heal himself. Every time he woke in Arthur’s arms, every time they touched, and every time Merlin admitted his feelings, every time Arthur couldn’t articulate his. 

Given the heavy sense of inevitability weighing on Merlin’s shoulders, he didn’t know if he should confess he had no idea what he was doing. Not really. He remembered how much it hurt when Aredian…and he didn’t want Arthur to hurt like that. He never wanted to do anything that would make Arthur experience that horrible sense of being crushed, the overwhelming agony, the shame and embarrassment that it was happening at all. 

“I can’t,” Merlin gasped, breaking away from Arthur. “I can’t, Arthur.” 

“What’s wrong?” Arthur asked, sitting up. “Merlin? What is it? What can’t you do?” 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t.” 

“I _will_. It hurts, Arthur.” 

“I know what it feels like.” 

Merlin blinked at him. “What?” 

“I’ve done this before. Not…not recently.” 

“With who?” 

“It was a long time ago, Merlin. I had just turned sixteen and I thought I was going to explode. Finally, Leon…” 

“With Leon?” 

Arthur glanced down and when he looked up again, his eyes weren’t soft like they had been before. “Is that a problem? It just happened a few times. It wasn’t a…we weren’t...there were no feelings. But we did do it, and I don’t regret that, and it didn’t hurt. It doesn’t _have_ to hurt, Merlin.” 

“What…what did he do?” 

“Well, he used some of that oil we use on saddles. I would have brought some myself I thought…you were planning this?” 

“I was planning to kiss you. I wasn’t planning anything like _this_.” 

“We could maybe use something…” 

“Wait.” Merlin held one palm towards the sky and wiggled his fingers over it. A jar of the oil appeared and they both smiled at the simple trick. “Okay, now what?”

“Now you use it like this.” 

Arthur took the jar from Merlin and poured it over his fingers. He half-crawled, half-scooted to lean against a tree and bent his knees, pushing his ass off the ground. He cupped his balls with his free hand, pulling them up so Merlin could have a clear view of his ass. Merlin stared, head spinning as two of Arthur’s fingers slowly disappeared into his passage. He pushed them all the way up to his knuckle, and then began fucking himself. Merlin unconsciously gripped his shaft, stroking his flesh in time with Arthur’s deliberate pace. 

“It’s going to feel so good, Merlin.” 

Merlin nodded his silent agreement, his eyes wide as saucers as he tried to process the vision in front of him. Arthur had never looked more beautiful to him, and he found it impossible to let his gaze rest too long on any one detail. His body gleamed in the sun, smooth and perfect and his muscles were clenched with pleasure. 

“Can I?” Merlin didn’t mean to whisper the request, but his throat was dry. 

Arthur nodded and eased his fingers free. Merlin gulped and poured oil on his hand before moving closer. He knelt in front of Arthur, grasping Arthur’s cock with his right hand and using his left to work two fingers into the slick passage. They slid in easily, and the heat—oh fuck the heat—was more than Merlin could have imagined. But the pressure, the grip of muscles around his fingers, tighter than any fist, made Merlin forget his earlier fears. Arthur was right. This was going to feel very, very good. 

He wiggled his fingers, gasping as Arthur clenched around him and groaned. Merlin experimented with different rhythms and depths and gestures, surprised when Arthur responded positively no matter what he tried. Merlin was certain the earlier spell wasn’t still in place, but he still physically responded to each sign of pleasure. He was drowning in the heat and the whimpers. How was he ever going to actually fuck Arthur? This felt like too much. 

“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice was thick. “Please…please tell me you’re ready to fuck me.” 

Merlin blinked and looked up from where he was watching his hand disappear into Arthur again and again and again. Arthur’s eyelids were heavy and his pupils blown wide. Merlin felt a light twinge of guilt at that. He was probably torturing Arthur, albeit unintentionally. 

“Yeah. I’m ready.” 

Arthur moved to lie on his back and Merlin moved to cover his body. He’d never wanted anything the way he wanted Arthur, and he took care with each second, each inch. Arthur opened himself up to Merlin, murmuring in encourage as Merlin pushed the head of his cock past the oiled pucker. Arthur took him by the hip and gently pulled him forward, making Merlin move even when he wanted to stop and try to process the _ohmygodheatsotightmusclesperfect_. It took forever to bury himself, and once he did, he never wanted to move. 

Merlin had been prepared for the physical sensation of Arthur tight muscles squeezing his shaft. He wasn’t prepared for the wall of emotions that slammed into him a mere second after he found himself fully sheathed. He wasn’t prepared for the fact that he could feel Arthur’s heart beating. He wasn’t prepared to forget how to kiss Arthur, but he did forget. His mouth was numb and uncooperative, his fingers clumsy, and his frame shaking with the sheer force of everything. 

“Arthur. Oh my god, Arthur.” 

Arthur’s hand was big and gentle, sliding over Merlin’s cheek and pushing the damp hair away from his brow and ear. He pulled Merlin’s mouth to his, and what remained of Merlin’s mind melted with that. He tried to speak and tell Arthur everything, but he couldn’t say anything and his lips and tongue were busy. The hand on his hip pushed and pulled, and Merlin rocked automatically, not understanding what was happening until the slick friction made his flesh burn.   
It was a little easier to move after that, but not much. Merlin still needed Arthur to guide him, and an occasionally murmured word against his lips or ear reminded him to breathe. But they fit together perfectly. And when they finally found a steady rhythm, they moved perfectly. Merlin saw his own sense of amazement reflected in Arthur’s eyes, and his heart was so tight, so full, he didn’t know how his chest could possibly contain it. When it felt like everything was going to burst out of him, he slammed his mouth on Arthur’s and kissed him until Merlin was dizzy for air. 

“Arthur…I’m so…oh god…” 

“I want to see you, Merlin.” 

“I…” Merlin only had it in him to thrust forward one more time. He arched forward, his head going back, and he shouted Arthur’s name as all the pleasure and need and love condensed itself down and then erupted. His cock throbbed, pulsing into Arthur’s trembling body. Arthur gripped him tightly as Merlin rolled his hips, grinding against Arthur’s erection and milking the last of his orgasm. 

Merlin slid his free hand between their bodies to fist Arthur’s shaft. It only took three strokes before he cried out with the force of his climax. 

“I love you,” Arthur whispered, just loud enough for Merlin to hear them above his pounding heart. 

Merlin swallowed. “I love you, too. How did it feel saying it?” 

“Good. I don’t know what I was so afraid of before. How are you feeling?” 

Merlin smiled, sliding his cheek against Arthur’s shoulder. “Happy.” 

#

The pond wasn’t on any official surveys of Camelot and nobody could say just where it came from. Gaius, Geoffrey, and other men consulted all agreed it probably formed naturally (as opposed to magically, because who would risk getting caught over a little spring of water?). As far as Uther was concerned, Merlin’s request only indicated what a slow boy he was. He urged Arthur to consider hiring another manservant, if only because Merlin was surely bound to get himself or Arthur killed one day. Arthur had thanked his father for his advice and promptly forgot about it. The subject of Aredian, the torture, or the pond never came up between them again. 

Merlin visited the pond regularly. Arthur sought him out there, and on the banks of its mysterious waters, he always found it a simple matter to confess his love.


End file.
